


He Wore a Pair of Silver Wings

by Briar Rose (Byrcca)



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Birthday Presents, Proto P/T
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-10-01
Updated: 2000-10-01
Packaged: 2019-04-05 13:31:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14045307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Byrcca/pseuds/Briar%20Rose
Summary: Tom is having a birthday and B’Elanna gives him a present. Set sometime after Blood Fever but before Day of Honor.





	He Wore a Pair of Silver Wings

**Author's Note:**

> The first story I ever wrote, likely sometime in the summer of 2000. So. Hard. To restrain myself and not rewrite it.

 

 

Tom Paris sighed softly and leaned back in a beach chair, a  
pleased expression on his face. He hadn't wanted a real party,  
but a few well wishers had stopped by the holodeck anyway, offering  
congratulations and a few presents. They sat in a very small  
pile beside his chair. His last official birthday party had been  
in honour of his eleventh birthday; cake, balloons, cousins, the  
whole deal. Now, almost two decades later, he couldn't remember  
many details, but he did recall that his father had taken a  
shuttle from Starfleet HQ and after the party they had gone for a  
short ride, young Tommy at the helm. He still remembered the  
thrill, the joy of having that old shuttle respond to his  
commands. Now, here he was, flying Voyager. He doubted his  
father would believe it...hence, the smile.

Neelix's resort programme had become a fast favorite among the  
crew, and the holodeck was filling up quickly. If he closed his  
eyes, he could pretend that he was on shore leave and the  
holographic sun was real. He heard the soft click of boots on the  
slate tiles and he knew it was her. He knew her stride, the sound  
of her footfalls as they hit the deck. His smile broadened. How  
she managed to walk in those heels, let alone crawl around  
Jefferies tubes he had no idea.

"How'd you find me?" he asked, as her shadow fell over him.

"I just followed my nose, you do rather stand out in a crowd," she  
answered with a chuckle, her eyes dropping to his surfer-special  
shirt. "May I ?" She nodded to the chair beside him.

"Be my guest." He sat up to face her, their knees almost  
touching. "Is that for me?" He gestured to the brightly coloured  
box she clutched on her lap.

"Yes—" 

"Why Lieutenant, I must say you look lovely this evening, though a  
trifle over dressed," Neelix interrupted with a wink. "Would you  
care for a drink, its an old Earth delicacy called rum punch." He  
offered B'Elanna what appeared to be a hollowed out pineapple  
shell with a gaudily coloured paper umbrella floating in it, along  
with several cherries.

She wrinkled her nose slightly at the sickly sweet aroma. "Sorry,  
Neelix, I have to get back to Engineering. I just stopped by to  
give this to Tom." B'Elanna shook her head slowly, her hair  
swinging around her chin. She eyed the proffered cup as if it  
might jump at her.

"Well, we'll be running the resort until 02:00 in case you change  
your mind," he answered, then wandered away in search of his next  
prey. Tom found himself grinning again. She did look lovely; her  
uniform a little rumpled, hair messy as if she'd run her hands  
through it many times in exasperation. He remembered  
the silky softness of her hair, the way it flowed through his  
fingers. Sakari. A lifetime ago.

"So—" he held the note," do I get to see what's in the box or  
not?"

"I found it in the computer's data base. It's from Earth,  
America, mid twentieth century. I know you like that time period,  
so I thought you would like it. But then I did some more research  
and I realized that it's about 15 years too early. It's odd how  
much a country's identity can change in so little time, isn't it?"  
She was rambling, the words almost falling on top of each other  
trying to get out. Tom found himself grinning again. "I would  
have replicated something more suitable, but I haven't had the  
time, so if you don't like it I can just recycle it and get you  
something else." She apparently ran out of air and snapped her  
mouth closed. B'Elanna kept a firm grip on the box. A little too  
firm, one of the corners had started to give under pressure from  
her thumb.

"How about you hand it over so I can decide for myself," Tom  
suggested, wrapping his large hands over her smaller ones, trying  
to dislodge her grip before it became a moot point and the present  
had to be recycled. She reluctantly gave in and let go. *Score  
one for Tommy boy* he thought, eyeing the box. He balanced  
it in one hand, noting its lack of weight. He tried shaking it  
gently, but it only made a soft whump as the contents slid from  
one end of the box to the other.

"Just open it already!" B'Elanna hissed, trying not to shout in  
exasperation.

Tom grinned again, he did love getting a rise out of her. He  
carefully slid the wide blue ribbon off the box, and looped it  
around B'Elanna's neck before she could protest, arranging the  
large bow to lie against her breasts. "Very...tropical," he  
decided. She sighed. She was almost twitching in anticipation,  
so he naturally drew it out as long as possible. He eyed the box  
again. He'd thought it was coloured with random splashes of blue  
and white, but closer inspection revealed a sky scene. What his  
mother liked to call robin's egg blue with fluffy white clouds.  
*Curiouser and curiouser* he thought. He gripped the lid with his  
thumbs and lifted it off with a flourish, spinning it several  
times on his index fingers, then placing it in B'Elanna's lap.  
This time she snorted softly. Their eyes locked for several  
seconds and she moved to make a grab for the box, so he quickly  
looked inside. The ever-present grin seemed to slide off his face  
leaving him slack jawed, mouth slightly open as he stared at her  
gift.

B'Elanna twisted her hands together, taking in his expression.  
"You don't like it," she stated flatly. "I told you it was all  
wrong, I'm sorry—"

"No, no, B'Elanna it's... I love it, it's perfect." He slowly  
drew the hat out of the box, fingers caressing the soft khaki  
cloth, his thumb sliding along the brim. 

"I just remembered what you'd told me about summers when you were  
a little kid. I thought a hat would be appropriate under the  
circumstances." Her eyes flickered to the remainder of his hair,  
more like stubble now. Tom laughed and she giggled with him,  
*I've never heard her giggle before* Tom thought. He was  
entranced.

"I guess Sam did get a little carried away, but she insisted on  
making it even..." 

B'Elanna fingered her own longer locks. "I sometimes wish we had  
a proper barber on this ship. Sam offered to trim mine, but I  
don't know now." 

"No!" Tom interrupted. "I like it long, it suits you." 

Sakari, the word hung unspoken between them.

B'Elanna dropped her gaze to the hat. "It's a pilot's hat from  
what Earth history refers to as the Second World War. American  
pilots apparently wore this colour," B'Elanna explained. He  
touched the silver wings reverently, with a ghost of a smile. How  
did she know him so well, he wondered. "Well, are you going to  
try it on or not?" 

He lifted the hat to his head and settled it over what was left of  
his hair.

"Its a perfect fit, B'Elanna, how did you guess?" He was amazed.

She lifted an eyebrow at his tone. "I just asked the replicator  
for an extra large," she dead panned. His eyes held hers a moment  
too long and suddenly the playful atmosphere was gone, almost  
replaced by something else. B'Elanna jumped to her feet and took a step back.

"I really should get back to Engineering, there's no telling what  
Joe and Harry are doing with that simulation."

Tom stood and faced her holding her shoulders lightly so she  
couldn't get away. His palms slid down her arms stopping to hold  
her hands in his. He remembered the softness of her skin, and his  
gaze lingered on her eyes, her mouth. She acted so tough, but  
everything about her was soft. He remembered... "This is  
probably the best gift anyone has ever given me." he said finally.  
"Thank you."

He leaned down, moving his face to hers, his breath stirring the  
hair at her temple. Gently, he slid his lips along her cheekbone  
stopping a centimetre from the corner of her mouth. Her eyes were  
closed, her lips slightly parted as she breathed in his scent. He  
knew what she was doing... she remembered too. 

Her combadge suddenly came to life with a loud beep and B'Elanna  
leaped away from Tom as if she'd been prodded with a Klingon  
painstick. 

"Engineering to Torres." Joe Carey's evident frustration came  
through in the short sentence. She tapped the badge at her chest,  
her eyes locked with Tom's.

"Go ahead."

"We're reading a cascade failure down here, Chief. Sorry to break  
up the party, but this just isn't working."

"That's all right, I was just heading back anyway. Torres out. I  
really should go now, Tom. I'll try to spring Harry soon so he  
can come up here. He has a gift for you too." She wasn't quite  
babbling this time. 

"Will you join him?"

Another shake of her head, her hair swung around her jaw. "I  
doubt it, but I'll try."

"How about a game of pool after shift tomorrow, I can dust off  
Sandrine's. I promise, no Gaunt Gary and no Gigolo."

"What about that creature that used to hang off your arm," she  
replied, eyebrow arched.

"Ricky's gone, too. I promise, its just you, me and Sandrine to  
keep us honest."

"You're on. I hope you have some replicator rations left, Paris,"  
she tossed over her shoulder as she turned to leave, "because I'm  
going to kick your butt. Don't think I'll go easy on you because  
its your birthday."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Torres," he murmured to  
himself, stretching out in the deck chair again and pulling the  
brim of his new pilot's hat down to shield his eyes from the sun.  
He wondered idly if the Captain would let him wear it on the  
bridge. His grin was firmly in place.

 

Fin.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Note: the title was inspired by a WWII song, He Wears a Pair of Silver Wings. 
> 
> Written by: E. MASCHWITZ, M. CARR  
> Lyrics © SHAPIRO BERNSTEIN & CO. INC.


End file.
